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American Ballads and Folk Songs |
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When everybody is striving to buy,
And cheating each other, I cannot tell why—
And it's hard, hard times.
From father to mother, from sister to brother, From cousin to cousin, they're cheating each other. Since cheating has grown to be so much the fashion, I believe to my soul it will run the whole nation— And it's hard, hard times.
Now there is the talker, by talking he eats, And so does the butcher by killing his meats. He'll toss the steelyards, and weigh it right down, And swear it's just right if it lacks forty pound— And it's hard, hard times.
And there is the merchant, so honest, we're told. Whatever he sells you, my friend, you are sold* Believe what I tell you, and don't be surprised To find yourself cheated half out of your eyes— And it's hard, hard times.
And there is the lawyer, you plainly will see, He will plead your case for a very large fee, He'll law you and tell you the wrong side is right, And make you believe that a black horse is white— And it's hard, hard times.
And there is the doctor, I like to forgot,
I believe to my soul he's the worst of the lot.
He'll tell you he'll cure you for half you possess,
And when you're buried he'll take all the rest—
And it's hard, hard times.
And there's the old bachelor, all hated with scorn,
He's like an old garment all tattered and torn.
The girls and the widows all toss him a sigh,
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